BAYyeee-behh BAYyee-behh
TY SEGALL, "The Last Waltz" | Freedom’s Goblin, 2018
One of the defining characteristics of a Ty Segall song is that it is just not quite all the way ... there. It’s missing some key element to push it over the top to — hate this word — perfection. This is a good thing. Near perfection, something with chipped tooth, defines many (all?) forms of beauty. Segall’s career, too, has never quite gotten there — or at least the “there” we often associate with artists who “make it.” It leavens warmly in the other room, never served on the big dinner table. This, despite possessing admirable talent on guitar, a band leader’s sixth sense and compelling presence, a lineup of All-Star Musicians to back him, and a songwriter/producer’s savvy, uncanny ear. And his live shows: They possess that grandiloquent, ragged, and riot-y power of a crowd being set loose on something; he really knows how to work his fans into a frenzy, or bend them into a sing-a-long. Still, something is missing. He is a relationship with a lover that was never given a fair chance. In fact, it is that which is missing, one could argue, that keeps you coming back. Next time, Chump, you will both finally treat each other the way you deserve to be treated. Then there is the matter of Segall’s productivity. He has written so many songs and released so many albums over the past 10 years, he over-saturates his own market. It makes it impossible for any casual fan to catch up or even know where to begin, and certainly difficult for true fans to spend much time obsessing over favorite songs; there’s always a new one — or an entire album — popping up somewhere on the Internet. (2017’s Ty Segall barely had a moment to itself before Segall released 2018’s double-header Freedom’s Goblin.) Which brings us to “The Last Waltz,” a weird and black little lullaby from his latest release. Kooky, carny, on-the-wrong-side-of-it-all: Segall plays a lover in the last moments of this life; he’s going to kill himself so he can be reunited (in heaven, or just in death) with his “baby,” who died when “the bombs came down and destroyed my home.” The song is sung by Segall in two tracks — his lead, and his own crazy-twin harmony — with a building hysteria leading to the grand end. He sings “baby” six times. And it’s the final two, just 34 seconds or so into the song, that set the macabre stage. In the harmony take (listen to it on headphones), Segall practically yodels. These are A+ “babies.” A love affair that finally gives you everything you could ever need.
